


Grease Monkey: A Mystrade One-Shot Mechanic AU

by ohdrey89



Series: Deductive Deviations [37]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Biting, Car Sex, Come Marking, Edgeplay, Gay Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Large Cock, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Nipple Play, Orgasm Control, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Punk Rock, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sally Donovan & Greg Lestrade Friendship, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Brat, Suit Porn, and a bit with a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: “What could possibly go wrong!?!? What could have possibly gone wrong is apparently everything!”  Or did it? ...When Mycroft Holmes is forced to pull up to a mysterious garage in the middle of the English countryside, he finds a man - a stunning silver-back gorilla in denim that listens to punk rock music a little too loudly, and has a Very Good Boy for a dog -  that challenges all his preconceived notions of how his life of enforced solitude and a life without love are supposed to be. Will he follow his heart's desires or will he just chalk it up to a hot one night stand with a complete, devastatingly handsome stranger?Or alternatively Author had a really good idea for a porn fic and had to write it down even though she has so much else to do!!! Just try and stop her! *runs away cackling madly*
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Deductive Deviations [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/178586
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Grease Monkey: A Mystrade One-Shot Mechanic AU

**Author's Note:**

> I promise, I promise, I promise, I am working on all of my other projects... or actually getting back into the swing of things of working on things I should be working on... A lot of personal family issues including loss of income due to COVID, and running around like a chicken with its head cut off, because both my parents are extremely high risk and I am the only one that can go into stores. 
> 
> But other than that I will tell you that this idea occurred to me simply because I was thinking of cheesy sexy porno ideas to put my favorite characters into and this was so juicy I had to write it down. It is admittedly not as hardcore as you would usually find from me but I still love it. And writing about safe - eeeeh, mostly safe - sex practices are always hot, in my book.
> 
> Also my apologies to those that know a lot about cars, I took at stab in the dark and know little about luxury models like BMWs (except german engineering = if one thing is not working, the car can not run, because we are german) and therefore the mechanics side of this fic is very thin on the factual side of what might be wrong with the car. But I promise you it's a fucking porn fic, and double promise you has little to no baring on the rest of the fic itself. I know, I know, I know, it will probably be wrong, just take a deep breath, accept it, and go with the flow, no need to correct me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

———

“What could possibly go wrong!?!?”

Hands pounded the steering wheel.

“What could possibly go wrong?”

The man was completely indignant in the face of the problem he now found himself in.

“What could have possibly gone wrong is apparently everything!”

The car door swung open, and two polished, posh, wing-tip, brown leather shoes came out into the rain pouring down around the man, usually dignified that was finished with this entire day.

Mycroft Holmes got out of the car and huffed, opening his umbrella to shield himself from the pouring rain. A hissing noise could be heard behind him and he waved his phone around the air as he was stuck alone in the middle of the English countryside. He had attempted to ring Anthea only to get the beep in reply that there was no signal to be had, and he had left behind the satellite phone that never failed against her insistence with the dismissal of ‘what could possible go wrong?’ and now he was paying for it. “FUCK!” Alone in the middle of nowhere he uttered the four-lettered expletive usually beneath him unless he found himself being shot at with no way out, a position which he stopped finding himself in after he moved far enough up the ladder in the British government to be the bidder rather than do the bidding. He turned back with another growl of frustration in rare display of his volatile temper that was usually under the strictest of regulation, to get back into the car he had left behind him, as it still hissed and steamed in the rain.

Mycroft should have known better really. Always allowed himself to be driven everywhere. Never wavered from that routine. In a flight of whimsy, he thought it a marvelous idea to enjoy the lovely spring day and drive himself to the right, honorable Lordship So-and-So’s party upon the grounds of his estate. The estate was close enough to London to feel safe enough to drive by himself but long enough that eventually he was able to enjoy the journey as he relaxed and took in the scenery out his windscreen.

It was a luncheon so he knew he could very likely make his excuses to return to the city before dusk. He had schmoozed and ate what he could though didn't enjoy any of His Lordship's overly priced foodstuffs. Catered food never paired well with his digestion, and Mycroft loathed showing any such weaknesses in front of colleagues. This made eating well out of the question, making drinking a detriment instead of a boon, around men that drank as if they each had a hollow leg. Mycroft toasted and was convivial enough with his colleagues to allow for some bawdy jokes— never at his expense— and orchestrated enough political maneuvers to ease his way upon the beginning of the next week.

Everything had gone as planned… then it started with the rain. In true English fashion, a downpour of deluge proportions sent thunder rolling along the countryside and broke up the remains of the party, ruddy English weather. The men around him were sent to their cars and drivers in a long procession in a bid to return to the city before the rain grew worse. For Mycroft, one of the few men that drove themselves, leaving from the estate proved to be a headache as the rain left the maze of dirt roads leading away from the estate pitted and riddled with potholes. An hour of only being able to crawl over the winding dirt roads until they gratefully met with asphalt and Mycroft could feel the miscalculation of this terrible idea coming to fruition. But he wouldn't admit defeat, as the rain pounded down against the roof and almost drowned out the voice of his GPS. If it had been in his power, he would control the weather. It could be done. He would just have to hire the right people and get Her Majesty to sign off on it and to convince Parliament of its necessity. And she would with very little trouble, he could convince her as it would be a godsend to her citizens.

Another hour along a road he was almost certain did, perhaps, most likely, (probably?) lead back to London, according to the foul disembodied woman’s voice directing him from the inexplicable GPS, and it started with a spurt. He didn't think anything of it as he pressed onward, winding through hills, and passed hedgerows of English countryside, once charming scenery now drowned and spoiled by rain bands on his windows. Then it was a strange click. Nothing to be concerned about surely. Then, it was a backfire. He stopped and turned off the car and was then able to turn it back on, but the damn thing couldn't be bullied into making it into the higher gears. Damn confounded thing. Mycroft made a mental note within his mind castle, find out whoever engineered this piece of scrap metal and make their life miserable.

With an intractable stubbornness known only to the man, Mycroft puttered the car to what he hoped was a mechanic’s garage. A rusted over sign swung from a pole that also offered a lone light to the pumps on display at night. Just because there was a sign didn’t mean the garage was still a garage, Mycroft knew enough of the world to know that. There was something about service station in the middle of the rusted sign that was well passed the definition of usable advertisement, but the garage doors were open, and he saw cars all around the place. He pulled his car to a stop just before smoke boiled out from the car. And it wasn't from only the muffler, and he also knew enough to know the smoke only should be coming from there. In fact, the muffler was producing great spurting billows of black smoke, while more smoke billowed out from the bonnet. That— that shouldn't be happening.

Trying to still his shaking hands by stuffing them in his pockets, Mycroft Holmes strolled his way into the garage. He was greeted a wall of noise — punk rock circa 1977 if he deduced correctly — and by the harsh, burr of a bark from the fierce Irish wolfhound (a bark that sounded more Scottish than he could claim to having, being Irish) as he boldly protected his master’s domain.

“Oi! Duncan. Quiet!” A voice that could be a growl, and sent chills up Mycroft's spine, echoed from inside another part of the shop, somehow louder than the music. But the dog didn't desist right away causing Mycroft to have to calm the scrappy thing. “Duncan!” The owner called out to his dog just as Mycroft was able to bring the dog to heel. A deep whine and a lick to his hand, Mycroft could see the dog as a rather handsome fellow with a nice bath and a good combing of his grey almost blue fur, most noticeably about the whiskers where his goatee was most especially scrappy. “Can I help you?” Mycroft heard the voice gruffly call out to him.

“Would you mind turning that noise…” Mycroft called out over the din and looked up from petting the dog to see… Um, well, a vision. In denim. And a deep blue button down. Mycroft could recall his loathing of denim until this exact moment. He really didn't remember whether or not he finished speaking as he watched the man before him walk across the garage, as he was given a nice view of the man’s very worthwhile arse, to where the old stereo system was, covered in a variety of debris, dust, paint and grime. Mycroft wondered how it was still working. "...off?"

Much like the rest of the equipment in the place, the man was fit, for his age, well-maintained despite the wear and tear of his profession. He had silver hair, tan skin, and a body clearly built for sin. That could have just been Mycroft’s overactive mind castle supplying such details. No man had looked that appealing to Mycroft in a very long while. He kept that predilection for attractive men close to his breast pocket, while he slept and manipulated women to gain advantage in his career. It wasn’t as often as he liked that he was able to indulge in what he preferred. The walking denim clad pile of silver-haired, tanned, sex turned the music down below deafening but didn't turn the blasted thing off. “Well?” The man questioned with a lift of his eyebrow, and a crooked grin that churned something inside of Mycroft he fought many years to control. Unlike his practically virginal, demisexual brother, Mycroft held no scruples when it came to sex, as it could be used against someone like any weapon. But to give into his own baser needs, into desires that fed other emotions, could be a weakness, and he couldn't have that, not in his line of work.

“Uh my… car. It’s not working. I had to drive for half an hour at 40 kph just to get here.” Mycroft growled as the unnervingly attractive mechanic lifted his brow adorably in disbelief. He gestured to outside the garage where the infernal thing rested in a heap. It was still running and spewing smoke. The man appeared to be trying to not laugh at Mycroft.

“Well what happened?” The man encouraged with a wave of his hand, at the state of the car that was barely running.

“It was working fine all morning; I went to a luncheon at an estate about 20 kilometers from here, one of those large estates, and had to drive over potholes because of the rain. The dirt lanes before getting to the main road were horrible, then a little while on asphalt, and there was a click, a clunk and then this… I had to pull over and start it again, and that’s when I drove to here... very slowly.” Mycroft sighed looking down at the decrepit lemon. “It’s not even my car, it’s borrowed.”

“Well let’s take a look. I’ll drive it into the garage. Got the keys?” Mycroft handed them to the man willingly. “I’m Lestrade, by the way. Greg Lestrade.” The man smiled cheekily, offering a greasy hand for Mycroft to unwillingly shake. He was confident, and bold enough to openly run his eyes up and down Mycroft’s form when he knew the well-dressed man was looking.

“Mycroft Holmes, how do you do?” Mycroft shook the man’s hand, all politeness. He tried very hard not allow Greg’s warm, tan, calloused hands to get him hard as he squeezed Mycroft’s own hand. He didn’t succeed very well. Now his trousers were almost uncomfortably tight. The strength of the man’s handshake as their skin touched for the first time had Mycroft’s knees turning to jelly.

Once he could trust his body to move without embarrassment, Mycroft moved inside the garage, the dog bounded up behind him to sit at the new man's feet and watched as Greg, his new (hopefully trustworthy) mechanic, expertly backed the car into the garage. His dog, (Duncan was it?) sat beside Mycroft and worked his head repeatedly into the palm of Mycroft’s hand until it responded by rubbing at his ears. Duncan reached his head back once Mycroft found his spot and he let out a half groan, half yowling yawn. He then grumbled out his appreciation for Mycroft’s expert scratching touch. Mycroft watched Greg climb out of the car. His arm muscles and length of his torso flexing and twisting with practiced movements that were making Mycroft’s mouth suddenly dry. He had no choice but to gulp against the feeling.

“Well I can see you've made a new friend.” Greg chuckled at his dog, reaching over to tease his best friend by the snout, but was pointedly ignored for more of this newfound premium head scratching. The scrappy thing let out an airy bark in response. Another carefree, gruff laugh, and Mycroft had to hold back a whimper. “Let's see what's going on here…” Greg announced going to work on the car’s engine. “Might be the fuel line. Maybe the alternator. That's— not an easy fix, at least not a quick one, especially on these fancier models.” Greg eyed Mycroft with a sympathetic eye. “Thankfully, I won’t need a computer to talk to the thing. Don’t have one anyway.”

Mycroft casually approached the open bonnet for lack of a better thing to do. He couldn't help himself. He was a moth and this mechanic he stumbled upon was a very tempting flame. “It's very helpful that you know so much about this sort of thing. It makes you handy in a crisis like this.” Ugh. Even he could hear how desperate he sounded. It was like a line out of a bad romantic comedy, or worse a pornographic film.

“It takes all kinds. There's men like you that run the world. And there's guys like me that keep it running.” So, this perfect specimen of manhood was also a saint, as he didn't call attention to Mycroft’s awful attempts at flirting. Another cheeky smile. Could he have possibly be flirting back? That was too much to hope for, in Mycroft’s limited experience with trying to proposition men. “Actually, I'm not always tinkering with cars and bikes. I just like working with oil and grease, it relaxes me.” He admitted eyeing Mycroft again. This time Mycroft caught his gaze and his silver fringe made his deep brown eyes sparkle as he bit his lip. Mycroft felt his blood welling up inside, not good. If he could escape this dangerous flirtation he would have, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“W–well what do you do then? When you're not rescuing government workers from the middle of the English countryside.” Mycroft questioned even when he felt his face heating up and tried to pass off his genuine embarrassment with a half laugh.

Greg merely raised his eyebrow. “I'm a copper. A detective. I fix everyone’s cars on my days off and keep away the riff raff from bothering the neighbors during my shifts.” Greg smiled going back into the bonnet with a wrench.

“It doesn't seem like you're too busy if you're fixing up cars on the weekends." Mycroft's mouth turned down in a moue at the idea of someone like Greg being exposed to the commonplace of country living. "From what I can see, and according to your musical tastes, you must have lived in London for quite some time. I'm guessing you grew up there." Mycroft observed.

"I've only been out here a couple years. I pissed off the wrong man, tried to point out that he wasn’t allowing my division to work certain cases and he had me transferred out here. Some bilge about my needing fresh air. The word ‘perspective’ was bandied about, and he got rid of me. I'd be in London now if it weren't for him. How could you have possibly known a thing like that?" Greg questioned in amazement, ruffling a hand through his fringe in an absent gesture Mycroft was trying not to find devastatingly attractive.

"I simply observed. I'm not what you would call an average bloke. To use the parlance of our times." Another downturn of his mouth, as Mycroft moved from the bonnet of his own car to the bonnet of the other that was taking up the other available spot to be had in the place. This car had been placed there on purpose, as if the spot were reserved only for this car. An English body, being modified with a retro American engine, 1965 Chevrolet muscle, if Mycroft were to judge. But he hardly knew anything about cars and walking away from Greg was nothing more than an attempt to refute his own desires, not to savor the supposed delights of auto mechanics. Mycroft needed anything to deny those longings that wanted nothing more than to kiss those full lips and savor the smell of engine oil and sweat that he was sure would be intoxicating. Everything about this stranger was intoxicating. It had been a long time since Mycroft Holmes had felt such animalistic longing for another man. He swore to himself that he had put such human sentiments aside for the good of his occupation, for the sake of his own heart, and the life of the person that would be ensnared with him. He could never put an innocent person at risk just for the sake of his own selfishness. It was easier to be alone than to be involved.

"If you're not an average bloke, then what are you?" Greg questioned with a bark of a laugh, stopping his tinkering to watch the other man stand over his own pet project. Those well-manicured hands, that suit, with lines in the fabric that gave everything and nothing away, and that shocking auburn hair that was all at once brown, red, and shone blonde under the lights of his garage. Not to mention an arse that spoke of indulgent bites of pastry, paired with exercise, jiggled as he walked about the shop, teasing Greg whether the man knew he was doing it or not, and just begging for Greg to take a bite out of it. He licked his lips, his dark brown eyes sparking, twinkling with hunger and the deviousness of the deviant thoughts he had about the other man. He looked up then to see Mycroft watch his tongue, he heard the gasp fall those delicate petal lips, and the blush that appeared across his cheeks at being caught, assured Greg that his decision was the right one; as smirk on his lips turned into a shark-like grin.

"I'm— I'm—" Mycroft stuttered, his acutely brilliant mind was suddenly befuddled, a storm of passion clouding over his mind castle and his ability to think. Such a thing had never happened to him before and he didn't quite know what to do with it. Was it such a risk to give into temptation? What would be the harm in it? He was a man after all, with needs, and as this Greg said, he was living out here for the foreseeable future and he was likely never to see the man again. It was the perfect opportunity to indulge. Just this once. His carefully honed will power and rigid control over his need to taste the hedonistic pleasures that he desired wanted just a little taste. That’s all he wanted. Nothing more. A kiss, perhaps some fellatio or something more tolerable like that. Something he could walk away from, a sample of this delicious hunk of rugged maleness was all Mycroft needed and then he could go back to his own reality, alone. His tongue was filled with cotton and his mouth was dry. Mycroft could hear the footsteps from behind, the back of his neck prickling with awareness as Greg stepped closer to him. He gasped when he felt the heat of Greg through the denim of his jeans and the soft cotton tweed of his trousers, closer in his personal space than any person dared. Apparently, Lestrade had other ideas and was taking control away from Mycroft.

"I'll tell you what you are," the growl of Greg's voice caused Mycroft to let out a whimper he couldn't hold back, before he bit down on his lips to stifle any more noises that would let this mechanic detective know he was completely within this man's power now. "You're one of those posh blokes that likes to pretend they're above it all, when really you're just like everyone else. You enjoy a good hard cock as much as the queer sluts on the street corner begging to be fucked for a fiver, am I right?" A groan worked its way out of his throat, out of his control and in agreement with the man as Mycroft felt his cock flex at the sound of Greg's dirty mouth growling against his ear. "Only you fight it. Why fight it? Why fight all those dirty, nasty littler urges boiling up inside you? Why not just give in and accept the inevitable?" Greg questioned, now pushing Mycroft into the hard steel in front of him. The pressure felt so good, Mycroft had no choice but to slap his hand down on the surface of the car and brace himself, his knuckles turning white, as his legs turned to jelly.

"What is inevitable?" He questioned, closing his eyes, and trying to fight with the last vestiges of his control. This was not how this was supposed to go, he was losing his grip of the situation. He was only supposed to have a taste, nothing more than that. If only Greg could cooperate and not upset all of his plans.

Greg surprised Mycroft with his fierceness as he reached a greasy hand into Mycroft's hair and yanked his head back, exposing his long neck, at the same time pressing his hips into Mycroft's arse, letting the taller man feel his impressively, mouthwateringly large cock flexing in-between his own arse cheeks, the thin lawn of his trousers leaving nothing to the imagination. "That I'm going to fuck you." Greg purred into his ear as Mycroft moaned at the idea. "And you're going to love it." Greg finished before biting down on the long column of white flesh exposed for him to feast on.

Mycroft could feel him bite down and suck, hard enough to bruise, leaving Mycroft nothing left but to shake apart in his grasp. All resistance to this new situation shattered in that instant, and Greg felt the man’s body melt, and the surrender caused his cock to give a jerk in approval, he moaned into the pale freckled skin of that neck. Greg wanted to spend hours mapping out all of the constellations he could see that would make up this strange, delicious find that was Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft felt Greg suck hard enough for him to try to escape the grip but there was nowhere for the government official to go as he flailed against the hold Greg had on his flesh. Greg growled into his touch, not flinching or releasing when Mycroft tried to pull again but he seemed to revel in it. He growled into Mycroft's throat, and Mycroft could feel the man smile into his skin as Mycroft cried out in reply.

"Please—!" Mycroft begged, and only then did Greg let up with a groan of satisfaction. That was what the other man was looking for, like bringing a criminal to their knees. Greg would only be happy with Mycroft's submission. "Ah—!" He cried out when the pain reached its peak. Only then did he release his hold on Mycroft's neck, licking the mark that was already blooming into Mycroft's pale skin, an angry blend of red and purple that was shocking against Mycroft’s pale skin. Mycroft moaned, shuddering and shivering against the mechanic's touch. The skin he had sucked on was now throbbing and the echo of it went through Mycroft’s body, each pound ended in a throb of his cock and stars in his eyes.

Greg shushed Mycroft, whispering into his ear as if he were trying to calm an unruly horse. Mycroft imagined that Greg could be quite good at that. "Easy... Easy... I've got you." Greg was smoothing his hands down Mycroft's suit, ruffling all the pristine crisp edges. He was slowly disheveling all the carefully constructed layers of his façade as Greg slowly opened Mycroft's suit so that he could expose Mycroft's creamy flesh to his gaze. Greg growled with excitement at the supple flesh he found under all those insufferable layers, popping braces, and yanking that obnoxious tie apart. For a man who wrapped himself up in such pristine armor, Greg was pleased to find such softness and under that, muscle, and tone. He was sweet and hard like the sweetest caramel, and Greg was going to devour him.

"Please, please..." Greg's hands stopped, watching Mycroft's expression, his disheveled hair, his teeth chewing his lips a delectable cherry red, a gentle flush Greg could see starting across his cheeks - which he wondered if it would go all the way down, and how his Adam's apple flexed up and down his neck oh so far with a deep gulp. Greg wondered if the man's throat felt as dry as his own. He watched Mycroft's expression to see if the man was asking him to stop, the eyes that turned to him were desperate and clouded with lust. "More—!" Greg's expression darkened with pleasure.

"That's it..." Greg let out a rumbling hum of satisfaction, as his broad calloused hands moved all over the parts of Mycroft's body he exposed for his own perusal, rough fingertips sneaking under all those layers to taste newly found peaks and valleys of the body underneath. "That's how I want you." Greg chucked darkly. "I want you constantly begging for more." Mycroft let out a shuddering moan, his head falling back against Greg's shoulder. He couldn't hold himself up anymore, if Greg didn't do something more to him soon — other than drive him mad — Mycroft would be forced to take extreme measures to get satisfaction.

"Greg!!" Mycroft growled himself, punching at the metal of Greg's car under his hands in frustration. He did not expect Greg to tug harder at his hair and press at his hips so that he could feel that man's throbbing cock against his arse in great detail.

"That's. My. Car." Greg growled in his ear. His fingers moved down to Mycroft's trousers, teasing at the button and feeling the expensive silk boxer shorts underneath. "Is this what you want?" Greg questioned, sliding his hand into Mycroft's pants, not even bothering to lower his trousers. "Is this where you want me to touch?" Mycroft nodded, as well as he could with the other man's hand in his hair. He teased his hand through the manicured curls at the apex of his legs and along the edge of Mycroft's cock. "I bet you're dying for it. I know you want my hand tugging on your posh cock until you stain the inside of those expensive silky little pants. You'd have to explain that to your maids. I bet you have them too, judging by the expensive cut of this suit. You'll have to explain to everyone you meet about that mark I left on your neck, and why you'll be absolutely in pieces when you go back to your dull, boring, unsurprising life. You'll have to wonder if everyone is staring at it, if everyone can see it written all over your face, that I absolutely ruined you." Greg purred into Mycroft's ear and proceeded to undo the man's trousers, lowering his pants and trousers all at once. Greg peered over the taller man’s shoulder and smirked into the skin of the other man’s freckled shoulder. “Well, would you look at that delectable cock.” He gave a gravely, pleased hum and wrapped a calloused hand around it. His broad, strong fingers were perfect as they mapped out the details of the shape of it. Long, and wide around the corona under the head peeking out from his foreskin where it glistened with pre-come, before tapering down, he could feel all the veins, and felt the shaft throb in the cradle of his hand before he squeezed it to give it a slow torturous stroke. “He looks happy to see me. I think I could devour you whole.” Greg growled, before taking Mycroft’s earlobe into his mouth, sucking, and nibbling on the soft bit of flesh while he listened to Mycroft’s hot cries of agonized pleasure as his hand teased him, squeezing as he moved up and down, while his cock practically wept with pre-come from this new stimulation.

When Mycroft lost all sense of self-consciousness, he began to moan continuously as his hips chased the sensation of those strokes. His hips matched the rhythm of the hand working him, as Greg’s mouth drove him crazy. Mycroft felt the churning of an orgasm coming on, and thinking he’d have the satisfaction of the release, he let out a loud groan different from the rest. Mycroft was just about to reach his peak when those torturous fingers felt the change in him, and they clamped down, and quenched the fires back to a dull roar. “Oh God, puh—please!!” Mycroft begged, his hips still thrusting, trying to chase the feelings that ebbed away, even as the harsh clamp of Greg’s hand hurt him. He was practically sobbing and completely unglued.

“Easy… easy…” That rumbling voice rippled through Mycroft’s body and make his cock throb again. “Not yet.” He felt it purr against his ear, as those torturous strokes continued only with the added pressure to keep his orgasm at bay. Greg wanted him completely unglued and that’s what the man would get. That voice would be the death of him. Mycroft now laid completely against Lestrade, his body no longer able to support itself, and held up only by Lestrade’s own scaffolding. “Just a little bit more.” That sinful voice promised, as the hand that wasn’t teasing his cock pulled aside the rest of the fabric covering his chest, and found its aim, which was to tease his nipples. Each pinch, flick, and press of his fingers across Mycroft’s chest sent his hips into that fist with his agonizing touch, each tease of the man’s nipples forced his hips to react as the shocking pleasure shuddered through him. “Sensitive…” Mycroft could hear the smirk in that voice. “I bet I could make you cum just from teasing these adorable little nipples. There’s so much I would like to do to you.” Greg’s voice seemed to lament the idea, and Mycroft was sure his mind was wild with all the unique ways to torture his body. “But this will have to do right now.” Greg smirked, as he continued to torture Mycroft until his flushed cock turned purple, and then all at once let go of his tight grip, pumping, and flicking Mycroft’s now agitated nipples like guitar strings, making Mycroft arch against him. He cried out, a long, loud wail, as his orgasm burst through the forced edging and his balls suddenly drew up. Greg watched as the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he shook apart, as his shout grew silent and the dam burst, his cum gushing out all over Greg’s car and the clothes at his feet, Greg’s hand, and Mycroft’s own skin as Greg’s hand continued to milk him while Mycroft shook and shuddered to bits. “Yeah!” Greg growled, pleased at the sight. “Oh fuck yeah, you gorgeous thing. Just look at you.” Greg grumbled a pleased hum as the last drops of cum fell away, and he released his hold on Mycroft’s cock and the man relaxed against him with a gasped shudder of relief. Greg was right, the blush that start in Mycroft’s cheeks once encouraged went all the way down, to his delight. He continued to let out happy rumbles as he caressed Mycroft’s torso, touching, and massaging great swathes of skin and committing every hill and valley to memory, with the hand that was covered in Mycroft’s cum, rubbing it back into Mycroft’s own skin, marking him with it. He pulled them away from the car and moved towards the doorway he had come from when Mycroft arrived. “Let’s move this inside, to my bedroom. It’s not much, but there’s a bed, lube, and I mean to have that cock in my mouth before I fuck you.” Greg let out a sinister laugh as he guided Mycroft’s limp form towards the door, as Mycroft tried to voice protests at being moved, only to moan at the promise of what was to come.

Duncan followed them into the house but huffed without the least bit amusement at finding himself displaced from their attention and flopped onto the couch in the sitting room for a nap until he was able to get their focus on him again. He let out a yowling yawn, shifting his head until he found the right spot with his drooping lips supported by his paws. A huff puffed out the sides of his mouth, but his dejection went unnoticed by the men tripping over themselves passed him and towards the upstairs.

It was a bit of a fumble at first to move the now lassitude Mycroft inside and took some negotiation to maneuver into the upstairs bedroom. Mycroft was in little control of his faculties as he was still recovering his wits but found himself reluctant to do anything other than delight in the other man’s attentions. He found himself providing little resistance to Greg’s insistent manipulation of his body into the house. That should perhaps be worrisome, but in this man’s hands Mycroft had no desire to worry with bothersome thoughts. It also didn’t help that he was pressed into every wall within the house on the way up the stairs to the bedroom Greg occupied so that he could be given filthy, consuming, brutal kisses that left him moaning, begging, and whining for more. Of course, his utter dishevelment only made Greg that much hungrier and the kisses seemed so much more every time he pulled away to watch the utter abandonment of pleasure in Mycroft’s glazed over eyes. His distraction also allowed the other man to strip him completely naked while his defenses were down. His tidy little posh clothes littered the hallway and the stairs. For Mycroft, this whole situation should have been a worrying idea all together that he could be so easily ensnared into this man’s clutches, but Mycroft was completely submissive and decided at the first touch to his cock to let go and just enjoy this oasis far away from his responsibilities.

Mycroft found himself pushed into the welcome embrace of a mattress. Much more conducive to sexual exploits. Mycroft used his fledging strength to turn around and watched with fascination from hooded eyes as Greg slowly stripped off his clothes. The dirty uniform dungarees of a grease monkey were left at the foot of the bed as Greg climbed into the bed, looking down upon Mycroft, stretched before him like an elegantly, lazy cat.

“Come here.” Greg growled, positioning Mycroft so that his still semi-hard cock was on display. He pawed Mycroft’s thighs open, and gave a rumbling purr of satisfaction as he took that cock in his hand and mouthed at it. He smiled into the throbbing flesh as Mycroft moaned in response. “I told you I meant to have this cock in my mouth before the day’s end and I meant it.” With a rumbling groan, Greg took the other man’s cock into his mouth and swallowed it down in one great, long suck. Mycroft couldn’t control the way his hips flexed into that filthy mouth, or how his back arched. His hands moved up to yank at his hair, for Greg’s mouth was pure torture. He kept a ring of his fingers at the base of Mycroft’s cock and use the suction of his mouth, and flick of his tongue to devastating effect. From base to tip, he thoroughly enjoyed leaving Mycroft an absolute wreck until he pulled off of the man’s cock with a pop and a satisfying hum. “Delicious.” Greg grumbled in satisfaction as he kissed his way up the adorably freckled flesh beneath him and covered Mycroft’s mouth in a kiss so that the man could taste himself on Greg’s tongue. That was just about Mycroft’s newest favorite thing in the whole world. Even better than his favorite slice of chocolate cake.

Greg was in absolutely no hurry as he languished in the soft, warm embrace of Mycroft’s arms as they kissed. His mouth moved from the man’s mouth to his neck, and shoulders. Mycroft let out a dazed groan as that mouth moved to his chest to tease his now sore nipples. He looked up from Mycroft’s body with dark eyes that sparkled with hunger. The silver fringe of his hair giving his older face a devastatingly boyish look. Mycroft couldn’t help the way his hand reached out to pet at the side of his face, where a kiss was sucked to his wrist before it moved down to the other’s man well-muscled tan form. “Tell me what you want.” Greg growled.

“I— I—…” Mycroft gulped, a blush popping up high on his delicate cheeks.

“Tell me.” Greg ordered, as he pressed his hard cock into the flesh of Mycroft’s thigh. He watched as Mycroft’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of that huge cock. His eyes screwed up before he opened them, and with his usual confident determination, pulled Greg up so that they were eye to eye.

“I want you to fuck me,” He purred and smiled when it was now Greg’s turn to moan, and pushed his now throbbing cock into Mycroft’s hip.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?” Greg questioned, reaching into his side table for lube and a condom. His hand and his mouth were distracted several times by Mycroft’s mouth clinging to him. The government official was practically turned into goo by the other man’s ministrations.

“The same thing you’ve been doing to me all afternoon.” Mycroft purred, pulling Greg back on top of him once he had found his plunder.

“Ugh… Fuck, I’m going to taste you some more.” Greg decided, kissing Mycroft on the mouth once before working his way back down his body. “Then I’m going to fuck you.” He growled into Mycroft’s skin, as he inched his way down Mycroft’s body, committing the shape of it under his mouth to memory. He licked a teasing stripe up Mycroft’s cock once, eyeing the man teasingly, over his cock, before licking lower still and lifting the man’s legs up to rest against his body. Mycroft moaned, unable to tolerate looking down at where Greg was going, the anticipation almost as deadly as the thought of what he was going to do. That was the truth, Greg was out to kill him.

“Please—!” Mycroft cried out, his eyes teary with agitated lust. He couldn’t stand the hesitation, the anticipation of what he was going to feel. To know that Greg was looking down at his rosebud, and he could feel the fingers on his arsecheeks massaging, and then began pulling apart and opening him again just to watch his hole wink at Greg. At last, he heard a growl of satisfaction and then felt the wet warmth of Greg’s tongue against him. Immediately, Mycroft cried out, and felt himself shaking as he pressed his hips into that tongue. Each broad lick made Mycroft moan, and he cried when he felt the tip of Greg’s tongue wriggle passed the ring of muscle to the softness of his inner walls. Mycroft let out one seemingly endless moan as Greg’s tongue licked him from the inside out.

Once his hole relaxed, and Mycroft was distracted, Greg eased a lubricated finger in alongside it. He moved it around and sought the bump of Mycroft’s prostate and pressed against it. Mycroft nearly shot off the bed at Greg’s expert touch. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.” Greg soothed, as he worked his finger against Mycroft’s prostate again and again, until Mycroft was a needy, whining mess.

“Greg, please! Need more! Please! Need you!” Mycroft bit out, his arms flailing as he tried to reach for the other man. Greg suddenly pulled out and worked to get the condom on.

“God, you should always be begging for it.” Greg growled around his teeth ripping open the foil packet. He fumbled with the condom and made quick work of rolling it down his cock as he gritted his teeth, groaning and trying to think of anything else other than the delicious man underneath him before this was over too quickly. He lined himself up again Mycroft’s hole and couldn’t deny himself any longer, or tease the other man. He pushed all the way inside in one slow, agonizing thrust of his hips until his hips met Mycroft’s. “Jesus fuck, you feel so bloody good.” Greg moaned, before licking his way into Mycroft’s mouth.

“Mmm, you do too.” Mycroft hummed, licking against the dark secret taste of Greg’s mouth, tasting himself on Greg’s tongue. “So good.” Mycroft moaned against Greg’s kisses as he felt the other man pulse inside him. “Move, Greg. It will – unh – feel so much better if you move!” Mycroft purred against his mouth. Greg gave a shallow thrust for the way Mycroft gave a little cry. Then he did it harder just to watch Mycroft shake. He pulled all the way out and slapped his hips against the cradle of the other man’s and Mycroft arched against his touch.

Again, and again, he slapped his flesh against Mycroft’s and worked his hips until Mycroft’s whole body shook as he cried out. “There it is,” Greg growled fiercely in victory, and pounded into Mycroft, hitting that spot again and again and again, assaulting Mycroft’s prostate.

“Greg—!” Mycroft bit out, his eyes glazed over with pleasure as he felt that huge cock fill him and rub all over him in just the right ways. No one had yet to be able to do that to him. It amazed him, even as his head thinned out from the pleasure. He could feel the heat churning inside him as his prostate was abused. “Please—! I’m gonna—! I’m gonna—!” Mycroft slurred as the pleasure kept climbing and climbing. He could feel it coming on and couldn’t believe it, but he was going to have an anal orgasm unlike any orgasm he had experienced before.

“Are you gonna cum for me, just from my cock?” Greg purred as his voice tightened under the strain of not coming from watching this delicious morsel lose control just from his cock. “I want to see it. Show me.” He growled. “Show me how a dirty little slut like you comes from being fucked by my cock. Show me how much you fucking love it.” Greg growled, thrusting harder, until Mycroft’s whole body shook with every thrust.

“Oh—! Oh—! Oooooooooh! Greg!!!!” Mycroft shouted before his entire body tensed, his back bowing upwards like a bow string, and he shook as his cock spurted, and throbbed, painting Greg’s chest and then himself up to his long pale neck, with stripe after stripe of hot cum. Mycroft shook apart, unable to see as white static filled his vision and he felt pulse after pulse from his cock, and the cock inside him press again and again still against his prostate, milking his orgasm from his body as he let out a silent scream. It kept going and going and wouldn’t stop, in that moment his body was nothing but a conduit of pleasure.

Greg watched on in adoration, his eyes sparkling, smiling a shark-like grin as he pressed further into Mycroft’s welcoming heat again and again, not stopping even as Mycroft’s body began to shake. He pressed his hips against Mycroft’s for the feeling of those walls tightening around him, milking his cock. He watched as Mycroft’s lungs finally took a gulp of air as he let out one long groan, finally collapsing as his limbs shook, the pleasure shivering up and down his muscles. “Fuck yeah.” Greg moaned reaching out to pet along that delectably freckled skin. Each touch had Mycroft’s body shuddering. He watched the other man let out a whine of oversensitivity as he now felt Greg’s cock still moving inside of his still clenching hole. “My turn.” Greg rumbled, chasing the feeling that he had been keeping at bay. It didn’t take long as Mycroft’s body still clenched around his cock with the last waves of his orgasm, and the sweet little sigh Mycroft let out, one of pure satisfaction, triggered Greg’s cock to give one last great throb as he filled the condom, and buried himself into Mycroft with a roar, his hips pressing against Mycroft’s again and again in one last great shove as he shook apart as well. Mycroft moaned at watching this and the press of his cock inside that man had his own cock giving one last weak spurt and his body began to shake as his spent muscles began to relax.

“Oh fuck, that was so good.” Greg mumbled into the damp skin of Mycroft’s neck. ‘

“Indeed.” Mycroft hummed drowsily, as he smiled, feeling the other man’s mouth against his skin. All of Greg’s earlier command was now spent and he lazily licked at the skin underneath his mouth.

“What am I going to do now?” Mycroft questioned with a sigh. He was supposed to be back at the office today.

“I’ve got food in the fridge if we get hungry, stay the night, and I’ll fix the car in the morning.” Greg suggested, while his hands wriggled alongside Mycroft’s ribs. The other man bit down on the laughter working its way up his throat and he batted away those rough, roaming hands, before the growling purr sent a shiver down his spine.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.” Mycroft shirked away from the offer, all politeness.

“I wouldn’t have offered it, if I wasn’t sure.” Greg insisted as he took Mycroft into his arms. “Besides…” and used his strength to pull the other man on top of him. “…after a little snooze, I’m probably going to want to fuck you again.” Mycroft moaned aloud at the idea causing the other man to give a guffaw before he settled further into the mattress with a pleased hum.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms and woke up to have each other again. But before they could go back to sleep, in the dark of evening, Mycroft forced Greg to feed him. They shared a shower before returning back to that bed to sleep for the night.

———

Mycroft woke the next morning with a wet tongue swiping up his cheek.

“Good… morning.” He turned over to find the bed empty and himself lonely inside of it. Duncan was sent on his errand to wake him up, and had achieved success, he bounded around the room, up and down from the bed. He whined when Mycroft sat up but didn’t quite get up. “Well, thank you for the wakeup call. I suppose Greg sent you.” Mycroft got a bark in confirmation. “Let’s begin our day then, shall we?” Mycroft spoke to Duncan around a yawn as he stretched himself into wakefulness. He received another bark before a head was pressed into his hand for scratches. “You don’t mind if I perform my ablutions before I go downstairs do you?” Mycroft questioned, to Duncan tilting his head at the use of such grand words. Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle at the dog. He made his way into the adjoining bathroom to do just that, even with a dog as his audience. Once he finished, Duncan was quick to herd him to join his master. The dog gave huffs and yowls of frustration as this human was very stubborn in his patient movements to put all of his clothes back on, before making his way to the garage.

Duncan bounded into the garage ahead of Mycroft, barking to announce them. Greg lifted his head out of the car’s engine, with a bright smile.

“Good morning! I didn’t want to wake up, well cause his nibs here must be walked at seven every morning, and you looked too good sleeping in my bed.” Greg smiled before going back into the engine. “That’s why I sent him to wake you. If I went up myself I wouldn’t have kept my hands off you.”

“Would that have been such a bad thing?” Mycroft asked, coming to join him in front of his car’s bonnet. He received a kiss in ‘good morning.’

“Only because if I had stayed in the bedroom instead of coming down here to work, I wouldn’t have let you go.” Mycroft blushed at this omission and Greg gave him another devastating, handsome smile.

“Well, are you almost finished?” Mycroft wondered.

“I think I’ve got it. If you would just turn her over and see if she’ll purr.” Greg gestured for him to get into the car. He got in and tried, hearing it rev but not turn over. “Almost.” Greg growled, Mycroft heard more tinkering. “Try it now.” He turned the key and it revved and felt like it wanted to start purring but wouldn’t quite do it. “One last time, I think I see what the problem is…” Greg grumbled, doing one last adjustment inside. “Now!” He barked, and just like that The engine purred to life, as if it had never been broken. “There. Good as new.” Greg gave a guffaw in triumph. His boyish grin of victory was infection and Mycroft smiled in agreement before his eyes turned sad and he got out of the car and looked down at his shoes.

“Well, I guess this means I can make it back to the city. I should probably go…” Mycroft hesitated, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Here.” Greg produced a card with his information on it. “If ever you’re stuck in the countryside, or want to have some more fun, this is how you can find me.” Greg smiled, easy though sadness equally tinged the edges of his usually sparkling eyes.

Mycroft opened his wallet, and slipped the card in. “What do I owe you?” Mycroft questioned, trying to reach for some money, Greg’s hands still them.

“I was just helping a friend in need.” Greg smirked, before reaching out to leave a chaste kiss on his lips. “And thanks for all the fun last night.” He winked, before moving to the door of the garage and making sure Duncan stayed out of the way.

“Thank you too!” Mycroft called out to him. He patted his body once to make sure he had everything, before he got in. Mycroft backed up the car and swung it until he was in position to pull out onto the road. Before he left, he hung his hand out of the car with a car in his fingertips. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Mycroft insisted before waving and driving off in the direction of London. Using all of his strength not to look back at the long figure and loyal dog at his side in his rearview mirror. With a straightening of his body, and a tightening of his jaw Mycroft hardened himself for the journey back to return to projecting the role of power everyone expected of him. The GPS in his car was now working, and it was quick work to get back to civilization, where his life and an impatient Anthea were waiting for him at the office.

“There you are!’ Anthea clucked over his rumpled suit and disheveled appearance.

“Sorry to worry you, my dear. I had car trouble and was forced to rely on the services and hospitality of a countryside mechanic.” Mycroft sighed, taking a seat in his chair behind his desk. Anthea clucked around him disapprovingly.

“Well, at least you made it home safely, do be sure to call next time, will you?” At his affirming nod of promise, she pushed him back into standing. “You need to go down to the facilities and bathe, and I’ll have Mark bring you a new suit to change into, now off with you.” She insisted, pressing him back into the elevator. Once he was clean and back at his desk, he buzzed for Anthea to come back in. “Much better.” She dimpled a smile of approval.

“Thank you, my dear, I’m so glad you approve. Now I have a few tasks we need accomplished in the upcoming weeks.” Mycroft told her about Greg and his situation in detail, he didn’t usually bother with law enforcement, but he couldn’t just ignore Greg’s existence and leave him to spoil in the English countryside. Anthea nodded and moved to leave the room.

“Sir… Is there any other particular reason why you want this man moved back to London so urgently?” Her eyes twinkled with a knowing smile on her lips.

“Nothing for you to worry about, now see that this is done, Anthea.” He excused her.

All he got in reply was a telling, “Mm-hmm.” That girl knew too much but she was so very good at her job, and he’d hate to have to replace her. He’d just have to swallow his pride and absorb her knowing glances until Greg was back in his arms.

———

For several weeks after, Greg thought the whole encounter was like a dream.

His head was filled at night and in his dreams with visions of the man. It was a brief moment in his life, but he would kill to have it happen again. When sex was that good, it was a shame to have it slip through his fingers in that way. So, it was to his surprise when his boss was pulling him into his office with paperwork put in to transfer him back to London.

“I never asked for this, Sir.” Greg insisted, looking down at the paperwork.

“True, but apparently someone from higher up got that moron in London fired, and the new boss of your division they hired asked for you specifically. Something about their arrest records suffering in comparison to you not being there. We will miss you here, what with you helping to service the precincts vehicles and all, but I have a feeling you won’t miss us all that much.” His boss laughed shaking his hand. The team bid him farewell with a cake, and Greg gleefully packed himself and Duncan up to go back to London.

Greg didn’t have long until he found out the reason why.

A familiar face looked at him from across his desk a day after he moved back in at work. He had barely got his boxes around the office unpacked.

“It must feel good to have your office back, doesn’t it, Detective Inspector?” If Greg thought this was done for his benefit, all the confidence of that fact melted away when Greg saw Mycroft standing next to a gorgeous young thing. Now Greg understood, the other man had already been committed when he met Greg. Figures, no man this good looking or posh would be single. It was too much to hope.

“Oh God! He thinks we’re together, this one is so stupid! Can we please just go?! There isn’t a police officer in all of London that’s not a punishment to work with!” The younger man groaned, and a spark of hope flashed in Greg’s eyes. Mycroft sent the younger man a withering glare that did little to intimidate him.

“Who are you?” Greg pointed to the younger man. “And why are you here?” Greg then pointed to Mycroft. The man across from him tightened his hand minutely upon the brolly he held, whether from nerves or anger, Greg couldn’t be sure.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, may I do the honor of introducing you to my brother Sherlock Holmes?” The younger man huffed at the woosh of relief that seemed to move out of Greg’s chest as he rose to reach out a hand to the man for him to shake. Sherlock did so reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you.” Greg tried to be polite and only received a grunt, and a flick of a wave in response.

“Excuse him, he’s recently back from America after drying out.” Mycroft told Greg of his brother’s history in detail, leaving nothing back. “So now you see why he needs looking after. Sherlock also needs occupation. His mind rails against stagnation. This is where you come into the picture. I believe you are most likely one of the most intelligent men on the force. You had a near perfect record of guilty arrests, and spotted that corrupt man for what he was, meaning you’re just the sort of man to put my brother upon the straight and narrow.” The younger man snorted at this.

“Well, I’ll do my best, but you want me to let him in on cases?” Greg’s voice lifted an octave at the idea. How was he supposed to do that?

“You’ll get all the credit. My brother has plenty of means to make money, outside of working with New Scotland Yard. He just needs the thrill of solving cases which you can provide. Think of him like a consulting detective.” Mycroft insisted.

“Consulting detective?” Greg repeated the skepticism leeching from his tone of voice.

“Only one in the world. I invented the job. When you’re out of your depth which will be always, you can come to me and I’ll solve the case for you. I don’t need the credit. Your sterling career will remain just that. You’ll get your man, and I’ll get the thrill of the chase. Everybody’s happy.” Sherlock swept his hand through the air, already bored with the conversation.

“There will be rules.” Greg warned Sherlock with a scolding finger.

“Which I am sure my brother can elucidate to me in great detail after the two you have finished fornicating. While I congratulate the both of you on finding each other, I am not in the mood to witness it. So I’ll see you later, brother dear!” Sherlock waved as he quickly left them inside Greg’s office.

“Insufferable lot, isn’t he?” Greg lifted a brow in consternation at this other Holmes brother.

“Quite.” Mycroft reached into his jacket and pulled out a card with his name on it and an address. “As much as it would amuse myself and my brother if we were to pounce on each other right now, I have several meetings to complete before tonight. That is my address. Will you meet me?” Mycroft questioned in a soft, uncertain voice and reminded Greg of his breathy moans from _that_ night. The thoughts of it shivered through him. He rose and brushed a quick kiss to his rosy, blushing cheek that went fiery red at the touch.

“Count on it.” Greg growled confidently, his smile all vicious teeth. Mycroft couldn’t help the moan that left his mouth before he turned and moved to breeze his way out of his office.

Mycroft paused at the door. “Do bring Duncan along with you. You won’t be able to find a dog sitter at this late hour, and I’ve plenty of room at the house.” Mycroft didn’t wait for Greg to respond before leaving.

“Everything alright, boss?” Sargent Donovan, a new recruit but one thirsty for the job, knocked on his door once the imposing man was out of ear shot. She worked hard to get to this position, and it wasn’t easy seeing someone get hired laterally while she didn’t get promoted. At least, it seemed like she liked him.

“Yeah. Listen, I gotta tell you about something. Close the door.” She wasn’t happy about this development and Greg agreed with her that it could blow up in his face, but he didn’t have much choice. Sherlock was going to be a permanent fixture in their lives.

That night, it didn’t take more than two knocks on the posh door, in the richest part of town, before Greg was pulled inside it and Mycroft was pushing him against it. Duncan tried to hop up both men with a bark, trying to great Mycroft, but huffed in resignation, moving into the sitting room next to the door to rub his smell into the nearest couch. Then he was going to nap until they both decided to give his nibs the attention due to him.

“Hello… mmmph! Hel-lo!” Greg groaned, pressing fully into the kiss before pushing Mycroft against the door. There wasn’t anytime to waste as they fumbled their way through Mycroft’s house, and he gave subtle directions to point them down a long hallway to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it, kicking his shoes aside in a haphazard way that was unusual for him, before slinking over to help Greg get off all of his clothes where he stood by the bed, taking in the furnishings of the room. Mycroft did what he could to hurriedly undo the rest of his clothes and pushed the lot off at once, leaving the expensive, tailored Saville Row suit in crumpled bits to be casted off into a heap.

Mycroft fell into the bliss to be found in Greg’s embrace, and let go, allowing himself to be cradled in Greg’s love for however long the man would carry him. The short month he had gone without the man had felt like an eternity, and as he fell apart around Greg’s expert touch for the third time that night, Mycroft vowed he would never be apart from this man for that long ever again.

———

**Author's Note:**

> God that was good, I'm not even the audience, I wrote it. It's self-serving to say, but I just love those two just on the regular. So I enjoyed myself, and I hope you do too, reader. 
> 
> For the crowds that enjoyed this so much, no there will not be a sequel. I know you loved it and would like to see me write about it some more but this was intended to be a one-shot and will remain thus until the end of time. If you would like to write a continuation yourself, you have my permission to do so as long as you advertise this fic in your own. 
> 
> Thank you so much for allowing me a respite, an unintended though not advertised small hiatus, read this quick fic, and are patiently waiting for me to get on board with finishing the rest of my projects. I promise that I will do so as soon as physically possible. I hope you enjoyed this read in the meantime and allowed this one-shot to whet your appetites for more! *Backs out of the room slowly while hungry, rabid readers drool and eye me too keenly for more of my fics which I hold unfinished behind my back* I will just get to it! *Leaves and locks the door behind me, then runs away to hide* 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


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